


Akemashite Omedetou

by greymissed



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymissed/pseuds/greymissed
Summary: Meeting unexpectedly in New York City, Eriol and Tomoyo cross into the New Year together. ExT.
Relationships: Eriol Hiiragizawa/Daidouji Tomoyo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Akemashite Omedetou

“Can I buy you a drink?” A low voice close to her ear says in crisp, British-accented English. A man in his mid-twenties, she would guess. Oxbridge-trained, classically handsome, generally dressed in a suit or preppy clothing. That is to say—her type, except for the fact that he is tacky and arrogant enough to approach a stranger at a bar.

She represses a sigh and plasters a polite, vacant smile on her face. Exasperated though she is, she can’t bring herself to be rude. “Gomen nasai, wakarimasen…” she begins, turning slightly in her seat—

To find a familiar smirk and a pair of dark blue eyes gleaming at her. Well, at least her assessment of the voice was accurate on most counts. “Surprised, Tomoyo-san?” the man asks in flawless Japanese.

The only surprise she conveys is a raised eyebrow. “Eriol-san. What are you doing here?” she asks, continuing their conversation in Japanese for the benefit of any eavesdroppers.

Observing him as he leans against the bar, she notes, for not the first time, how fine a figure he cuts in a suit. She makes a mental note to give him a call the next time she requires a male model.

He shrugs and takes a seat at the bar counter next to her. “I’m staying at this hotel.”

“What a coincidence. So am I. You aren’t by any chance stalking me, are you?”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” he says with a grin. The truth was, he’d booked the hotel earlier, but he wasn’t exactly disappointed to sense her presence the moment he’d stepped in, and had been hoping for an opportunity to accidentally-on-purpose bump into her. She is always so fun to tease.

“Let’s just say I wouldn't put it past you to think it’d be funny. But, really, what are you doing in New York City?”

“Meeting my American publishers... You wouldn’t believe the amount of work there is to do that has nothing to do with the contents of the book. Anyway, it’s boring stuff, you wouldn't be interested. What about you?”

“Meeting some fashion people and some editors,” she says. “We need to secure some coverage for the store opening in Tokyo.”

“Over New Year’s?”

“Trying to get a business off the ground is no joke. My time is not my own.”

“You don’t say.” He pauses as he takes a drink from his glass. “I can’t believe you didn’t recognise my voice.”

“It sounds different in English.” She eyes his glass, which is half-filled with a rich amber liquid. “How long were you here before you decided to come say hi?”

“Oh, I’d say about one and a half drinks.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours. I must say, it was quite entertaining. Your strategy of pretending not to understand English seems to have worked though.” Yes, he’d watched her from a dark corner of the bar, fending off several interested men, before he decided to take pity on her and make his way over. It wasn’t often one got to observe Daidouji Tomoyo without being observed in return, after all.

“American men are very forward, aren’t they? This doesn’t happen much in Japan.”

“Well, you’re a beautiful young woman drinking alone at a bar on New Year’s Eve, and wearing a dress like that it’s really no wonder.”

“I work in fashion! I have to look the part,” she protests, trying to ignore the compliment he’d slipped in.

“Point taken, but you can’t blame them for trying. What are you doing in a bar, anyway? Do you typically drink alone?”

She shrugs. “I felt like it. I had no other plans and this was convenient,” she says, side-stepping his question.

“Your assistant?”

“Has abandoned me in favour of getting sloshed at a club and waking up in some stranger’s bed. No judgment, but it’s not exactly how I’d like to spend the first day of the New Year. But it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in the world’s most happening city. I thought crossing the year sitting alone in my hotel room eating doughnuts and watching the news would be a bit sad, even for me.”

He laughs. He has always liked her sense of humour. “Well, lucky for you, you met me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself; you’re cramping my style.”

“Am I?” His mouth is twisted into an amused smile that seems to hide a smirk. “I happen to think we look good together.”

Privately she thinks so too, but that is neither here nor there, and they are wading into unchartered waters. “Don’t you have your own plans?” she asks hastily, turning to signal for another drink.

“There’s a party at my publisher’s place this evening; I was going to attend if I had no alternative. But I think I’ve found better entertainment for the evening.”

She shoots him a withering look. “Far be it from me to keep you. There’s nothing entertaining about me.”

“ _Au contraire_ , my dear Tomoyo-san. You are endlessly fascinating. Plus it’ll be fun. We hardly hang out just the two of us.”’

“Indeed. Why should we start now?” Though they hang out often enough in a group setting, she feels some discomfort at the thought of being alone with him for an extended period of time. She had developed a small crush on him sometime after he returned to live in Japan a couple of years back. To find that she numbered one of the many who were not immune to his charms was rather embarrassing to admit, even to herself. So while he is part of the friend group that she considers to be good friends, she has been mindful to keep her distance. He is, after all, an unrepentant flirt, and it wouldn't do to be too careful.

“You wound me, truly. Seriously though, if you’d rather be left alone, I’ll make myself scarce.”

She briefly entertains the thought of pretending to want to be alone. She can do morose really well, and he is unlikely to push the issue. On the other hand, they are friends and being alone together in another city, it would be rude to refuse his company.

_Aah, that conscience._

“Nah, stay. Just making sure you aren’t sitting here out of pity.”

“Pity? I’m the envy of all the men in this bar. I’ll have to check my drinks for poison.”

She cracks a smile. “So it’s some sort of twisted male pride thing, then?”

“Tomoyo-san, you need to learn to take a compliment. Just take it that I’m more than happy to spend New Year’s Eve with you and leave it at that.”

They chat for a bit, ordering a couple more drinks, before her stomach starts to growl, and she realizes that it’s already past nine.

“Eriol-san, have you had dinner?”

“No. Haven’t you?”

“No, I…”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Alcohol on an empty stomach is not the best idea.”

“Then why didn’t _you_ say anything?”

“Having too much fun, I suppose.”

It is both impressive and annoying that he can say such things with nary a blush.

“Toshikoshi soba?” she suggests, referring to the Japanese tradition of eating soba on New Year’s Eve for good fortune.

He agrees, but looks at her with some concern. “Are you all right though? You’ve had a bit to drink, and the nearest soba place is a bit of a walk.”

“Me? I can hold my alcohol,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Can you?” he asks, looking somewhat intrigued. “We’ll have to test that someday.”

He insists on paying for their drinks ( _“I did offer to buy you a drink, after all”_ ) and they adjourn for dinner.

Even at this hour, the soba shop is relatively busy. The server sets before them two bowls of freshly made buckwheat noodles in a steaming hot savoury broth, topped with seaweed, sweet tofu skin and scallions.

She lets out a happy sigh as they tuck in. “This is just the thing on a winter’s night.”

He watches her with some amusement. “I thought the alcohol would have gone some way in warming you up already.”

“There’s nothing like hot soup on a cold night,” she declares.

He has to agree, and they begin to debate the best types of hot soup to eat on a cold night (he favours goulash, while her vote is for miso ramen).

“So, what are your wishes for the New Year?” he asks, after they come to an agreement that whatever their top choice is, some kind of root vegetable stew comes in a close second, and that gazpacho should be banned.

“The same as everyone else, I suppose. To be happy and healthy, and have my loved ones be happy and healthy.”

“Very noble. No wishes for love or marriage?”

She shrugs. “Those would be a bonus. To be honest, I’ve been so busy with my shop the past year that I’m not sure it would be fair to get into any sort of relationship at this point. Most men aren’t that patient when it comes to such things. They don't seem to think a woman’s career is that important.”

“Well, I happen to think it’s great for a woman to have her own career.”

“So do I. I mean, Mother was often busy and having to run off to work when I was growing up, but I could tell she did it because she loved it.”

“Wasn’t it lonely for you?”

“Sometimes,” she admits. “But I had friends, and I managed to enjoy my childhood and my relationship with her.”

“And for her?”

“I guess she must have been lonely at times. But she was happy. She is happy. So I’ve resigned myself to growing old alone, surrounded by fabulous clothes.”

The rich sound of his laughter sends warmth spreading through her. “I doubt it’ll come to that.”

“What about you – what do you hope for this year?”

“Well, I’m not as noble as you…”

“Let me guess – world domination?” she teases.

“Been there, done that,” he says dismissively. “At least, Clow has. To tell you the truth, love and marriage would be harder to achieve than world domination.”

“If you’d stick to one girl, perhaps it’d be easier,” she says, and immediately wishes she hasn’t. The words have come out perhaps a little more bitterly than she’d intended.

He sets down his chopsticks and takes a sip of green tea, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. His eyes look faintly troubled. “Just what are you suggesting, hmm?”

“I’m merely alluding to your reputation as a ladies’ man.”

“And what, may I ask, gave you that impression?”

“Reputation, as I said.”

“Have you actually witnessed any of it?”

“Oh, come on. You’d flirt with the chair if it could talk back.”

“Well, I feel obliged to set you straight. The fact of the matter is that I don’t do anything more than flirt.” He leans across the table towards her, shortening the distance between them. “You should know, Tomoyo, that I’m perfectly serious when it comes to matters of the heart.”

She doesn’t quite know how to deal with this Eriol, the serious one who’s looking at her as if he urgently needs her to understand. She doesn’t know why he is telling her this, or why it should matter to her. But it does. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” is all she can say, and they eat the rest of their soba in silence.

~

As they emerge from the soba shop, she turns to him slightly hesitantly. “Are you going to your publisher’s place, then?”

“As I said, I’ve got better entertainment, remember?”

“Pleased to oblige,” she says drily. “But don’t let me keep you. I mean, there will probably be editors and people in the industry. It’d be good for you to meet them, wouldn't it? It’s not often you’re in New York.”

He eyes her shrewdly. “Now when did you start believing in networking?”

“I’ve been trained from a young age. And ever since starting my business, I’ve realised that Mother was right, unfortunately. And I’ve actually made some friends who are not just connections.”

“Tell you what. I’ll go if you agree to come with me.”

“I’m not _that_ invested in your career.”

“I’m really not that interested in going. I’d rather countdown with you.”

“Who says I’m going to stay up for the countdown?”

“You did mention eating doughnuts and watching the news in your hotel room. C’mon, Tomoyo-san, we don’t have to stay long. It’s a big party; we can leave anytime we want. Plus,” he adds, turning to her with a grin, “I’m pretty sure I recall him saying that they specially catered a dessert table.”

“You know just how to reel me in, don’t you? But you’re treating me to brunch tomorrow for this,” she says, and regrets it almost immediately. She had blurted it out, fresh from her relief that the tension that had built up from their conversation at the soba shop has somewhat ebbed. But will he think she’s trying to extract a date with him? Is that what she’s subconsciously trying to do?

“You drive a hard bargain,” he says, but there is a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

He introduces her to his publisher as his friend, the emerging fashion designer, and keeps one hand firmly planted on the small of her back nearly the entire time they are there. She notices the hand migrate to her waist when they are chatting with a particularly attractive photographer with whom she exchanges numbers for the possibility of future collaborations for her fashion line. It feels… not unpleasant. In fact, this little-known streak of possessiveness is strangely compelling. Once or twice she allows herself to lean into his arm, allows herself to pretend that it means more than it does.

Introducing Tomoyo as his friend had been a bad idea. ‘Friend’ means she’s not off-limits. He feels an uncharacteristic flare of irritation at the amount of male attention she is garnering. But then she turns her smile on him, and he finds himself just feeling glad to have her here. Her English is excellent for a Japanese, and unlike at the bar, she’s not pretending not to understand it here. He lets himself be drawn into the sound of her voice speaking his native language. She’s right – one’s voice does sound somewhat different in different languages.

He suppresses a groan as his publisher lets slip that the reason Eriol had to come down to New York City was for a photo shoot for his book. He will never live this down. As expected, while Tomoyo’s face remains politely interested as they chat with his publisher, he can see the smirk lurking at the corner of her mouth that promises endless teasing later. She is probably texting their friends behind her back as they speak.

Tomoyo hides a smile at Eriol’s obvious discomfort. While she knows that he is eminent enough as an academic and his field of expertise interesting enough to warrant a book deal, she had suspected that half of it was actually down to him being charming and attractive, and this just confirms it. She’s not in this business, but she knows enough to know that a proper photo shoot is not at all common for such books.

“Aah, yes,” Eriol admits with a touch of embarrassment. “The photographer was only available this period.”

She observes him as he interacts with his publisher and the people they are introduced to. The women’s glances are appreciative and the men’s are admiring. Still slightly disturbed by their conversation at the soba shop, she wonders if she has judged him too harshly. He cannot help being charming; is it his fault if women (and men) are consequently charmed? She wonders if that’s what she is – charmed – or whether it is something else entirely. For all their years of friendship, he remains hard to read, especially tonight, when something in their relationship dynamics seems to have shifted.

At half an hour to midnight, she turns to him hesitantly. “Do you want to watch the countdown at Times Square? I’ve only ever seen it on television, and it looks pretty spectacular.”

He is slightly surprised but pleased. “Sure. It’s just a slight detour on the way to the hotel, anyway.”

Times Square turns out to be impossibly packed. Drunken revelers throng the streets, dressed to the nines.

He takes her hand, and they slowly fight their way to a spot with a view of the ball drop and the fireworks. Despite the crowds and her thick winter coat, the sharp chill in the air causes her to shiver.

“Cold?” Ignoring her protests, he unwraps his scarf and winds it around her neck, his motions brisk but gentle.

His scarf smells like pine and the warm, familiar scent that she has come to associate with him. She feels her cheeks beginning to heat up, and has to wrench her gaze away from his. Her eyes land on his lips. Bad idea, for now all she can think about is how tempting they look, and how they would feel on hers…

Not that she will ever find out, she thinks firmly, shaking herself out of her reverie. _He’s single and attractive, you’ve just spent an enjoyable evening together in a foreign city, and it’s New Year’s Eve. What you’re feeling is just a product of the circumstances._

_So what if it is?_ A small voice in her head questions. Who’s to say that she can’t enjoy the night for what it is? Nothing has to happen or not happen. In this foreign city where she knows practically no one, she feels free.

“Better?” he asks, his voice rough.

She chickens out.

“Yes, thank you. So, we never got around to what _your_ wishes are for the New Year,” she says brightly, trying to ease the tension between them.

“Well,” he begins, “It’s generally the same every year – health, happiness, that sort of thing. But I do have a new one for this year, one I hope you can help me with…”

Before he can continue, they hear a roar from the crowd as, at a minute to midnight, the famous Times Square ball begins to drop. It is admittedly rather gimmicky, but they can’t help but be sucked into the festive atmosphere, watching as the ball slowly descends and the large digital display flashes the countdown to midnight.

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” he says.

At ten seconds to midnight, the crowd begins chanting the countdown.

“Three… Two… One…”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Fireworks light up the sky. It is enchanting and beautiful, and her heart feels full. A year ago, she had just left her mother’s employ and was venturing out on her own. Now, she has a busy store in Tomoeda, and is looking to open another in Tokyo. She is travelling halfway across the world to meet with magazine editors and models and photographers. She has had a lovely evening with Eriol, and is entering into the New Year with him.

Overwhelmed with a general sense of gratitude towards the world at large, she turns to him with a smile. “Happy New Year, Eriol-san.”

His eyes are soft as he looks down at her. “Happy New Year, Tomoyo-san,” he whispers, and then he leans down and kisses her.

She registers, vaguely, the sound of fireworks and people singing and whooping in the background. The crowd is pressing in on them, but she can’t be bothered right now. Her mind can only focus on the warm, soft lips on hers, his hands gently cupping her face, and his divine scent. The kiss is brief but intense.

Before she can decide how to respond, he pulls back, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks before he drops his hands to her shoulders.

“What was that about?” she demands, though the effect is somewhat spoiled by how breathless she sounds. She’s glad to note that he looks slightly dazed as well. At the back of her mind, she wonders if she’s being a little unfair at putting this question to him. They have been semi-flirting with each other the entire night, after all. If she had wanted to put a stop to it, she could have, but she didn’t.

He takes it as a good sign that she has not shoved him away. “It’s a New Year’s tradition.”

“That was not a friendly peck.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he agrees readily.

“So, why?”

“Haven’t you wondered?”

She remains silent. The fact is that she has indeed wondered.

“No?” he asks, his eyes intent on hers. “Well, I have. For sometime now.”

Her face must reflect disbelief, because he chuckles. “Ask Li-san. He’s been warning me off you for ages.” He pauses, watching her face for an indication as to her feelings. “Are you surprised? Watches over you like a hawk, that one. He’s almost as bad as Kinomoto Touya.”

She lets her eyes trail after a group of passing revelers, outrageously dressed and wearing matching top hats, if only to have a reason not to meet his very penetrating gaze. Her mind is processing furiously. This is too much to take in. Eriol has wondered – for some time now? Li had stopped him? None of this fits within what up to two hours ago had been her worldview, of Eriol as an incurable flirt and Li as being blissfully oblivious, and she prides herself on being pretty observant. What does he mean by ‘wonder’ anyway? She knows he’s not talking about just kissing her, but it could still mean one of several things.

“Say something, Tomoyo-san,” he says, twirling a length of ebony hair around a finger almost absently.

She lifts a hand to halt his movements, but somehow this just results in him taking her hand and intertwining her fingers with his. She wonders that she doesn’t even try to stop him.

“What exactly have you wondered about?”

“You and me. Us. Whether we could work.”

“For how long?”

“A year and a half, perhaps two years? Shortly after I returned to Japan.”

_Oh God,_ she thinks.

“And what was your conclusion?”

“I’d like it to work. If it comes to that, I’ll make it work.”

“Why now?”

“Well, Li-san’s not here. It’s seldom I manage to get you alone in Tomoeda.”

“It wouldn’t have been impossible. You were pretty good at engineering situations when testing Sakura.”

“I was comfortable with the way things were and didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits.

“And now?”

“It was too good an opportunity to let pass. And,” he adds, looking at her carefully, “You seemed like you might be open to it.”

When she refuses to acknowledge the insinuation, he continues, “My turn to ask questions.”

“I’m not promising to answer anything.”

“But I answered all of yours. Actually, I only have one – will you answer just one?”

She remains silent, waiting.

“Will you give me a chance?” The look in his eyes is so uncharacteristically vulnerable, without a hint of his usual mischief, that she feels her heart clench.

How can she say no? In the far reaches of her mind, this is what she’d been hoping for tonight, after all.

In answer, she rests her head against his chest and wraps her arms around his waist. She can hear his heart beating rapidly. “If you hurt me, Li-san will kill you.”

She feels, rather than hears, the chuckle that emanates from his chest. “So will Sakura-san,” he agrees. “And Kinomoto-san. And your mother.”

She pulls back in time to see him shudder at the thought.

“I have another question,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Her breath catches as he reaches up and brushes a thumb against her bottom lip.

“May I, Tomoyo-san?”

She inclines her head in assent, and this time, when their lips meet, they don’t break apart for a while.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year all! Hope you enjoyed that, and if you did, I'd be ever so appreciative if you leave a review or a kudos to let me know :)


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